Sam's head jerks up at the sound of the whistle. Who was that? He'd already established there were only a few people here remotely familiar to him. His eyes scan the surroundings, going from ground to rooftops. Most people wouldn't think to look up, but he was a flier and a former soldier. You eventually train yourself to look up to avoid getting ambushed or sniped. He squints, wishing he had his goggles an also wishing his glaring red scrubs weren't so, well, red. It makes him a damn target is what it does.

'Relax, you haven't had any indication that anyone here is trying to shoot at you...yet.'

His eyes linger on the roof of #22. He's not at the best angle to confirm if someone is up there--but his instincts are now confirming he's being watched and he feels compelled to check.

"Someone up there?" He calls.